


Fight

by imagineteamfreewill



Series: The Switch [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineteamfreewill/pseuds/imagineteamfreewill
Summary: Sam and the reader are united and she finally gets some answers about the Switch and Sam’s apparent weakness.
Relationships: Sam Winchester & You, Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You
Series: The Switch [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1339267
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Fight

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my tumblr of the same name on December 22nd, 2018.

The next time Sam opened his eyes, he was greeted by the dark, brick ceiling of the bunker infirmary. A quick, silent check told him that he wasn’t in pain anymore and he let out a sigh of relief, letting his eyes fall closed again.

“How you feeling?”

Sam opened them once more at the sound of Dean’s voice, then slowly sat up in the bed. The stark white sheet that had been draped over him fell down into his lap and his hands immediately moved to smooth it and fold it until all the wrinkles had disappeared—an anxious habit he’d had for as long as he can remember.

“Better,” Sam answered honestly. “Don’t think I’ve ever been happier to be home.”

Dean nodded, not looking up from the gun he was cleaning as he replied, “It was touch-and-go for a while. You’ve been unconscious for three days. Cas healed you, but your body needed time.”

Nodding in response, Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, holding out a hand and closing his eyes when he swayed a little.

“Easy tiger,” Dean said, already standing and at his brother’s side. He placed a hand on Sam’s back, steadying him, then met his eyes when Sam opened them. Dean’s eyebrows were furrowed slightly and Sam could see the worry in them when he asked, “You good?”

“Yeah. Water?”

Dean reluctantly dropped his hand and moved away, then grabbed the bottle that Cas had brought down from the kitchen for when Sam woke up. He tossed it and Sam caught it easily, his once-broken arm moving without a problem. After uncapping it, he drank half of the bottle in just a few swallows, sighing as he screwed the top back on.

“Better?”

Sam nodded. The room fell silent as Dean sat down on the edge of the other bed again, picking up his gun and continuing to polish the silver barrel. He didn’t say anything more about Sam’s condition or ask any more questions. Sam watched in silence, an uneasy lump in his stomach. As much as he wished he could avoid the conversation, Sam knew it was up to him to speak up. It was always better to talk this kind of thing out right away than to sit around and let Dean stew.

“How much grace did Cas have to use to heal me?”

“Enough. You had a pretty bad concussion and a broken arm. Lost a lot of blood, too,” Dean added, and Sam nodded. “Cas’ll be fine. You just can’t do anything stupid like that for a while.”

Irritation bubbled up in the pit of Sam’s stomach at his brother’s words, though he knew he deserved them. What he’d done was stupid and he knew better.

“How’s Y/N?” Sam asked as Dean exchanged the first gun for a second. Silently, he reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face as he waited for Dean to reply.

Dean glanced up from the pistol before focusing once more on his work. “Unconscious. Has been since we left to go find you.”

“She’s been sleeping for four days?” Sam pressed. “Dean, why didn’t you do something?”

“Because she’s fine,” Dean replied curtly as he set the pearl-handled Colt down on the black-smudged towel beside him, then stood so he could easily look Sam in the eye. “Worn out from helping us track you down, but fine otherwise. You upset her pretty bad.”

Something was bothering Dean, that was for sure, but whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let on. Sam had seen the look on his brother’s face before—he was stubborn, and he was hiding something.

“How did she help you—”

“She wouldn’t have had to help us if you hadn’t been such an idiot,” Dean snapped in reply, not even willing to let Sam finish. “Think, Sam! Do you know how scared I was?”

Sam grit his teeth together, staring Dean down as his older brother fumed. Once he was sure that Dean was done talking, he ground out, “I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.”

“Damn right you weren’t thinking.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest for a second before huffing out an angry breath and running a hand through his hair, his other hand dropping back down to his side. Sam could practically feel the stress and anxiety coming off of him in waves, but he knew there was nothing he could do to ease it. Dean just had to get rid of it on his own, whether that be by talking about it or working it off in the shooting range later that night when he inevitably couldn’t sleep.

“You said that Y/N helped you find me. How?”

Dean glanced back at Sam before walking over to the clean white table in the center of the room. Sam waited in silence as Dean grabbed the two plates of food from the small spread he’d no doubt cooked to keep himself busy, then brought them over, holding one out for Sam. Sam took it, watching his brother expectantly.

“Eat,” Dean ordered, giving one curt nod towards the plate. He sat back down in his spot on the bed and began to eat his burger, ignoring Sam’s continued stare.

Annoyed, Sam set the plate down on the end of his own bed. “You’re not even going to answer me?” Dean didn’t reply. “We haven’t been able to do anything like that since the Switch, Dean! It’s great that she can help you, but don’t you think I should be able to know how she did it, too, just in case?”

Dean chewed his food for a long moment before swallowing and then looking up at his younger brother. “Y/N can tell you when she wakes up. It’s easier for her to explain it than it is for me.”

Another second passed before Dean looked away, going back to eating his food. Sam could’ve sworn he heard his brother mutter something under his breath, but he only narrowed his eyes and watched Dean eat for another moment before grumbling,

“Fine. I’ll go talk to her myself, I guess.”

“She’s still asleep,” Dean told him as Sam began to walk out.

“Then I’ll wait till she wakes up!”

* * *

Sam had been sitting at your bedside for five hours by the time you woke up, or at least that’s what Dean had told you when he’d caught you alone when Sam had slipped away to get you something. He hadn’t left your side since you’d woken up, and though it was nice, you were worried, despite the fact that he said he was fine. You’d been more than relieved to find him safely back in the bunker after the whole ordeal, but Sam didn’t remember anything about the dream you’d shared. You could tell that he’d been wanting to ask you something ever since you first woke up, however, and the fact that he hadn’t come right out and asked it was starting to make you nervous.

“You sure you don’t want anything else to eat?” Sam asked—for the second time—from his spot at the table.

You gave him a small smile and shook your head, setting your spoon down in your bowl. “I’m good, Sam. I promise. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

Sam nodded and briefly returned the smile before glancing down at his folded hands. Finally, he asked, “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” you teased, and Sam breathed out a short laugh at your response. “Go ahead.”

“Dean said that you helped him and Cas find me after I left?” He met your eyes, waiting for your nod of affirmation before continuing, “How did you do that? I mean, Dean could have easily found me himself with enough time, but Cas can’t track me because of the warding on my ribs. Did you use a spell or something?”

You hesitated. If you explained what you’d actually done to find him, Sam would want to know all the details and why it had worked. That would mean you’d have to explain that you were soulmates, and though you’d recently come to terms with the fact that you loved him—_and that he loves me,_ you thought to yourself, holding back a smile—it felt wrong to drop that in his lap without any kind of warning.

“Something like that,” you said after a second. “It’s hard to explain. I just had a really good feeling that it would work, and it did. It was a once in a lifetime thing, I think. Beginner’s luck.”

Sam watched you, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to piece together the story. You hadn’t given him much to work with, but a few seconds of silence were enough for him to accept your explanation.

“Well, thanks,” he smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile in response, your face feeling a little warm. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been able to find me.”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

You ducked your head, looking down at the bowl on the table in front of you and playing with the spoon. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you and you felt your cheeks grow even warmer. Finally, you forced yourself to look back up at him. The smile in his eyes was gone and for a moment you wondered if he was thinking of what had happened between the two of you before he’d left. It wasn’t as if you’d been able to forget the argument, and you doubted that Sam had forgotten about it, too. Before you could say anything, however, he answered your question for you.

“I… should apologize for what I said in the library,” Sam sighed, wincing slightly. “I’ve had some bad experiences with people who’ve read those books and—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” you interrupted. “It’s okay. I understand. I just wish that you would see yourself as I do.”

Recognition flickered in Sam’s eyes for a brief moment and you held your breath, wondering if he’d remember the dream. When he continued to apologize for what he’d said you relaxed, assuring him that you weren’t angry with him and that all was forgiven.

“Can I ask you a question now?” you asked as you gratefully accepted the mug of tea Sam had gotten up to get you after you’d started to compliment him about something again. He nodded in response and you took a quick, cautious sip before asking, “What happened to you during the Switch? I thought only monsters were affected.”

Sam looked down at the coffee he’d poured himself and almost immediately you felt bad for asking.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer—”

He shook his head and cut you off, sighing. “No. No, it’s okay.” Sam paused, mulling over his words for a second as he fiddled with the handle of his mug. “You know how the Switch enhanced all the monsters’ powers and abilities and knocked out a lot of the government communication systems and all that?”

Nodding, you glanced up at the kitchen doorway when Dean stepped inside, looking between the two of you.

“Am I interrupting something important?”

The glare Sam shot his way spoke volumes and Dean quickly ducked out of the room. You snickered, looking back at Sam who gave you a small smile of his own.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh again.

“It’s okay. I like when you guys act like brothers. It’s nice. It’s… normal.”

Sam’s smiled softened as he watched you, then slowly faded as he remembered the topic on hand. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and then sighed, “Right. The Switch.”

You nodded, your own smile gone. “The Switch.”

“Well, it could’ve been a lot worse than that.”

Confused, you frowned at him and took another sip of your tea. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam sighed. “The Switch was caused by a spell. It enhanced every monster’s powers and knocked out all the communication systems so that—”

“So that they could come out of hiding and use their powers to influence the government,” you finished. “Yeah, I know—I was there for that—but what do you mean that it could’ve been a lot worse?”

“I mean that instead of humans having to live in hiding and fight for our lives like the monsters used to have to do, we could’ve been completely extinguished. Humans would’ve been extinct.”

You stared at him from across the table, then looked down at your mug as you tried to absorb all the new information. Clearly, Sam had had something to do with the fact that you and the rest of the human race were all still alive, but you couldn’t imagine the kind of price he’d had to pay for that. _Everything_ had a price, and Sam had already given up so much…

“What happened?” you asked, running your thumb over the rim of your mug before lifting your head to look at Sam. “How are we not all dead?”

Sam didn’t answer for a long minute and your heart broke a little when you saw the pain in his eyes. Whatever had happened, it still haunted him, even years later. More than anything you didn’t want Sam to hurt anymore, and you found yourself wishing that you could fix it somehow, or at least make it better.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you said when Sam still didn’t answer.

He shook his head. “No. It’s okay.” Sam took another sip of his coffee, licking his lips afterwards. “We found a counterspell. Dean, Cas, and I had been looking for months to find something to stop it, but in the end all we found was a spell that could counteract some of the effects. It made things a lot better than they could’ve been, but Dean and I both had to give something up in order for it to work.”

Your breath caught in your lungs as Sam explained what had happened. He’d known the Switch was coming and he hadn’t told anyone?

“You knew?” you breathed out, your sympathy for Sam’s pain quickly being overridden by the incredulous anger flooding your veins.

_How could he know and not tell anyone? He could’ve saved so many lives._

“Yeah.” Sam lowered his gaze, guilt in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? You could’ve saved so many people, Sam! The government would’ve helped you find something to stop it! Did you even try?”

“The last time the government heard anything I had to say, they locked me up in a maximum security prison that doesn’t even technically exist,” Sam told you, not looking up from his hands. “If I’d told them, they would’ve either locked me up because of my record or because they think I’m crazy. You can’t exactly march into a government office and tell them that a pissed-off witch is trying to get the upper hand on the entire human race, Y/N. It doesn’t work that way—not for us.”

Your anger was beginning to simmer away as you tried to wrap your head around Sam’s logic. You knew he was right, of course, and you knew that Sam wouldn’t go into anything without thinking. Even from your basic interactions, you could tell that Sam was the more logical of the two brothers, though the Supernatural books had proven to you that sometimes he acted out of heart in some of the most extreme situations, especially when it came to Dean.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed after a long while. Sam had been sitting still and when you spoke he lifted his eyes to meet yours, his expression heavy and his shoulders slumped from the weight of his guilt. “I shouldn’t have… I assumed things I shouldn’t have. You probably thought a lot about telling people when it was going on.”

Sam nodded, giving you a small, sad smile. “It was one the first thing I suggested to Dean when we found out what Rowena was planning.”

“Rowena did this? But…”

“But what? You thought she was good now?” Sam asked. You nodded in response, wracking your brain for your memories of the red-haired witch. You’d never met her in person, but a few of the books had mentioned her and had even included her in some of the major plots.

“Rowena has never been good, Y/N. She only does things if there’s something in it for her. In the case of the Switch, there was a lot in it for her.”

Nodding, you finished off your tea and set the mug back on the table, glancing up at the kitchen doorway as Dean poked his head in once more.

“I don’t know what you two are talking about, but I need food. I’m starving,” he said, and Sam chuckled as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and legs stuck out as he relaxed into the new conversation.

“Dude, you just ate!” Sam laughed, and Dean grinned in response as he stepped into the room and made his way over to the fridge.

“It’s been like six hours!” Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes and grinned at you from across the table. “Come on,” he said after a minute, standing up and carrying the two empty mugs to the sink. “I wanna show you something.”

“See you later, Dean,” you called over your shoulders as you followed Sam out of the kitchen and down the hall. “Where are we going?”

“There’s something I need to show you. You’re not going to believe me if I just tell you what it is.”

You lengthened your steps a little so that you could walk beside Sam, glancing over at him every once and a while as he answered your few questions on the way to your destination, the training room. He’d been vague the entire time, and you frowned when he tossed you your normal pair of gloves.

“Put those on,” he ordered, already turning his back on you to search for a pair for himself.

“I thought you were going to show me something?”

“I am.” Sam finally started strapping on his own gloves, glancing up at you and gesturing for you to go over to the mats and wait for him. “But it’s more of a participatory thing.”

Still confused, you watched him for a moment longer before stepping over onto the mats, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited. Once he was ready, Sam stepped onto the mats opposite yours.

“Are we sparring or something?” you asked when Sam simply stood still. He nodded and you brought your hands up, waiting for him to do the same.

“Go ahead. You get the first punch.”

You eyed Sam for a moment before stepping forward and swinging your fist. It hit his cheek hard and he stumbled backwards. When he turned his head back to face you, you realized that Sam’s eyes had glazed over, his normal alert expression being replaced with one of complete confusion. It was as if he was lost in his own self.

“Sam? Are you alright?” you asked, stepping closer to him and lowering your hands slightly.

Slowly, the strange look in Sam’s eyes disappeared and he looked down at you, blinking a few times as he focused again. “Yeah. I’m fine. Let’s go again, come on.”

“Sam, I don’t know if I want to—”

“You need to see this, Y/N,” Sam insisted. He raised his hands up this time, his long fingers curling into practiced fists.

After hesitating a few seconds longer you stepped back, ready to go. Sam didn’t try to throw a punch so you went again. Your gloved knuckles connected with his cheek again and Sam groaned, stumbling backwards into the wall as his hand came up to cradle the bruising skin.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dropping your hands, you rushed over to him, taking Sam’s hands in yours as you inspected his cheek. When you looked up at his face, however, you realized that he was wearing the same glazed expression as he’d had before and you frowned in concern. You pulled your gloves off, tossing them onto the floor.

“I’m— I’m fine,” Sam breathed out as the haziness in his eyes faded. He closed them for a long moment before opening them, turning his head away from you as you reached up to trail your fingers over his cheek, the scruff along his jawline rough under the pads of your fingers.

“What’s going on with you? You can’t just ask me to spar with you and then not even try to fight back, Sam! That’s not how this works!”

“It is for me,” he murmured. He paused, then lowered himself to sit against the brick wall of the training room, the mats underneath him bending under his weight. You stayed standing, waiting for him to continue. “Dean and I each gave up something for the spell, Y/N. Dean lost all his memories from before he turned twenty.”

You watched Sam as he fiddled with the velcro strap on one of his gloves, the pieces of his story finally starting to click together. “And you? What did you lose?”

“My ability to fight.”

“And that’s why you’re not supposed to leave the bunker. You can’t fight back if something happens,” you said, your brain finally putting two and two together. Sam nodded and you exhaled heavily, slowly sinking down to sit beside him. “Sam, I… I’m sorry. I know that must’ve been hard for you to give up.”

“It wasn’t my choice. We didn’t know what we gave up until afterwards,” Sam replied, his voice quiet. He leaned his head back against the wall. “Dean and I went out to see what had happened a few days after the Switch and I almost died. A djinn got the jump on us and if Cas hadn’t shown up…”

“But he did.” Reaching over, you took Sam’s hand in yours and squeezed hard. “He did and you’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

“What good am I alive if I can’t defend people? If I can’t even defend myself?” Sam pulled his hand away, looking over at you. You could see the anger in his eyes—anger for the spell, anger for the world, anger for himself—and you almost hugged him right then. But you didn’t, instead choosing to look away as you answered,

“You can’t see how amazing you are, Sam, but I can. You’re smart, and from what Cas has told me, you’re helping so many people just by being here in the bunker doing the research. Just because you’re not out in the field with the other hunters doesn’t mean that you’re not useful or good.”

Sam didn’t reply, and when you looked over at him a second later he turned his head so that you couldn’t see his face.

“Sam, you’re not—”

“I should get some rest.” Sam stood up, cutting you off as he unstrapped his gloves and walked out of the room, tossing them in the bin on his way out. You stared at the doorway long after he had left, hoping that he would come back.

He didn’t.


End file.
